*And it's that, more than anything, that pulls her up short: Amrita is told she's beautiful many, many times a day, invariably by men who want something, whether an extra round or a pinch or a smile or whatever rough tumbles are assumed to be part-and-parcel of her occupation. Either way, her grimace becomes a smirk, the lips on his neck become teeth tracing their not-so-gentle way up to his ear--the pleading in her voice replaced by something else entirely.*
I won't.
We can do the other thing but--no.
*A part of her wants to shy from the word, then, to apologize somehow, to soften it, giggle, laugh it off. But another, cunning part says very clearly, no need; it's the part of her that's smirking at the insistent way he's holding her, that loves what she doesn't even know she's tasting on him, that wouldn't mind biting and biting harder.*
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Date: 2011-06-24 11:41 pm (UTC)I won't.
We can do the other thing but--no.
*A part of her wants to shy from the word, then, to apologize somehow, to soften it, giggle, laugh it off. But another, cunning part says very clearly, no need; it's the part of her that's smirking at the insistent way he's holding her, that loves what she doesn't even know she's tasting on him, that wouldn't mind biting and biting harder.*